


A Reminder of Today

by zirkkun



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood, Bows & Arrows, Childhood Trauma, Death, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd Has PTSD, Eye Trauma, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Spoilers, Gen, Mass Death, Minor Character Death, Murder, POV Third Person Omniscient, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-25 19:56:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21361819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zirkkun/pseuds/zirkkun
Summary: Just how did Dimitri lose his eye all those years ago, anyway?The screaming noises in his head -- they, just as much as he, don't like to think about it.
Kudos: 9





	A Reminder of Today

Screaming.

The crushing sound of bones beneath his feet as he ran for his next victim was completely dulled: he was beyond used to it. Soldiers with varying weapons tried to fight their way through, but soon found themselves in his growing corpse pile, each face crushed in by his palm alone. Blood dripped from his gloves, caked into the shredded blue cape tossed over his shoulder, and splattered onto his soulless face. His eyes were empty, void of any emotion, staring miles off into the distance as he looked for something else entirely.

Screaming.

Still, soldiers ran up, piling and streaking a path behind him. Their hearts were pierced through by his lance, arms broken by his unforgiving hands. Arrows stuck out of his armor, falling every so often if they hadn't struck with quite enough force. Aside from a few scratches, he bared no physical injury of his own. Soldiers, now growing fearful, began to slow their approach, valuing their lives over their orders. They had done everything they could, it seemed. There was no stop to this murderous beast.

Screaming.

The screams in his head grew louder. He couldn't drown them out, not even as he continuously silenced those of the souls he reaped. The voice in his mind grew louder, screeching, howling, causing his heart to race and his sanity to lose all focus. Memories raced through his vision, framing each soldier before him as someone other than their true selves -- people he held a personal vendetta towards. His breathing turned to laughter: the screaming seeping from his head into reality. Each soul he took was someone he hated, someone he wished would have perished nearly a decade ago.

Screaming.

His thoughts drowned him. Reality no longer existed, for he could not see it. His stringy hair swayed over his eyes, ends brushing against his chin, as he stared off into a empty burning field of dead bodies. He passed by faces he knew -- his brothers, sisters, friends, mother, father... each one lifeless. The flames grew larger, even though there seemed to be nothing else left to burn. He stepped into the fire without hesitation. He had nothing else left to live for.

That damned Flame Emperor.

The face of a brunette flashed before his eyes. Her strong lavender gaze penetrated through his heart like an unknowing sword, his chest throbbing in pain for the past. The face morphed -- older now, the brunette hair paled to white. His heart was pained even more. The first time in years they've met, she was more gorgeous than ever... And more disgusting than he could have ever imagined her to be. That sickening witch. Dastardly devil. What the hell was she thinking? But, frankly, at the point he managed to reach, he no longer cared. He just wanted that head of hers sheared cleanly from her body, framed and hanging at her filthy capital center for all to see. Something would be done about her actions. She'd pay. She'd pay with more than her life, if he had anything to say about it.

Screaming.

The bones of his friends and family snapped beneath his step. He was alone; the screaming had momentarily ceased. There was no one left standing to scream, not even his mind was . All that remained on the field, as far as the eye could see, was ash and smoke, gently lit by the dying flicker of flames. He clenched his fist, ignoring the strength and allowing his own blood to mix with the dead's caked to his palm. His breathing increased, heavy and stuttered, struggling as though he was going to die.

Screaming.

Although, this time, it came from him.

It didn't end.

The high pitched wail of distress rang out across the land. Soldiers that were running off slowed their step, wondering, had he been weakened? Could he be killed now? The first to consider sneaking back were a couple of snipers, concerned as to whether or not it was really him screaming out in pain. Had one of the soldiers stayed back, somehow surviving long enough to attack the enemy? But it didn't take long for them to realize that could never be the case. One of them nearly threw up upon returning to their abandoned battlefield: the ground was dyed red with defeat, unkepmpt and battered corpses littering the ground. Their opponent surely was screaming, but it seemed to be at nothing from the outside. He kneeled, his tattered pants soaking up blood from the ground, clenching his fists at his side, staring to the heavens, and screaming out his plea to the Goddess. No words were spent -- just pain.

One of the snipers took the initiative. He hoped to end it here, before another solider lost his life to this chaotic murderer. Slow and quiet steps within the forest he and his fellow soliders were shrouded in, he shifted his angle so that beast would be within his range. Too distracted, his opponent did not see as he drew his bow back, loading an arrow coated with poison. He took aim -- towards the head. But his grip was shaking, worried that he would miss, and like a ferocious bear, this beast would come chasing after him and crush him into the bitter pile of his comrades if he missed.

One shot.

He had one shot.

And he took it.

The arrow whizzed through the trees, and while it did impale the head, it wasn't a fatal blow. The beast's screaming morphed into a roar of pain, hands going directly to his right eye that had just gotten an arrow through it. The poison seeped through, stinging and aching as it oozed into his bloodstream. He felt it corrode into his skin. If he remained screaming, he would eventually join the pile of bodies he had built up.

He knew he was a monster. He knew he deserved to die here and now. But he had a sense of purpose -- one single task he had yet to complete.

And that was to rip that delicate head from that goddamn Flame Emperor's shoulders.

He gripped the arrow with both of his hands, careful not to break it. He knew what he had to do, and he knew it would be painful. But he figured it best to end this quickly rather than wallow in the pain, no matter how much he knew he deserved it.

His eye was still caught in the arrowhead, so as he tried to yank it out, he didn't realize that his eye would come out as well. The optic nerve was strained, stretching far beyond its point of safety. Like a weak string, it started to snap, and with one last hoist, the two were separated. Liquid poured down his cheek, trickling down the arrow and onto his gripped, shaking palms. He stared at the result of his work, the pain being so great that he no longer could feel it. His eye, once baby blue and beautiful, was drooling with red, misshapen from the arrowhead. No visible blue was seen. Just blood.

He looked up. Everything felt closer. But he couldn't see where the assassin came from. He no longer cared.

Dropping the arrow, he stomped with his foot. The remains of his eye popped under his boot, exploding with red onto his already stained uniform. He tore off the one remaining piece of fabric to his person that had yet to be soiled, tying it around his head as a makeshift eye patch.

His past was dead.

That eye would serve as a reminder for what he had done today.


End file.
